


Last Night On Earth

by fandomtrash2611



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Johnlock - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Movie: A Game of Shadows, Reichenbach Feels, Richie Holmes Movies, Victorian Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 21:16:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15804726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomtrash2611/pseuds/fandomtrash2611
Summary: “What would you do”, Sherlock asked after a while, “if this would be your last night on earth?”After the incident in Heilbronn, Holmes & Watson are at Mycrofts House in Switzerland to take part in the peace summit and to avoid a war. But what did happen between Heilbronn and the summit itself?Well I thought about it and decided it could have been something like this..





	Last Night On Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys!
> 
> After years I finally got the balls to post something. A tiny Johnlock fanfiction about the Richie-Holmes movie "A Game of Shadows".  
> It is better if you've seen the movies to know what's going on and when my story takes place but you don't necessarily have to. 
> 
> Sadly I didn't find anyone who was willing to beta-read this so I hope there won't be a lot of mistakes.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did while writing it. 
> 
> Oh and you can find me on Twitter with @_fandomtrash_ if you want to pop by and say "Hello".
> 
> Enjoy! :)

 

Sherlock tried to hold on to the hook that was piercing the flesh on his right shoulder. It hurt. He screamed while Moriarty swung the rope and caused him even more pain. After a while he landed hard on the floor. He was panting and sweating heavily. Where was Watson? Moriarty stood beside the Detective and looked down at him.   
“Let’s try this again, shall we? Whom did you send the telegram?”

“To…” It took him all his remaining strength to concentrate and pronounce the words properly.

Sherlock felt dizzy and weak but he had to go on and continue to play this game. 

Moriarty held his hand and pressed the hook further into his flesh before he bend down to hear him more clearly. Sherlock moaned quietly. 

“To my brother Mycroft”, he finally said. 

“I just got one more question for you. Which one of us is the fisherman and witch one the trout? 

They heard a loud noise and Sherlock just rolled over when he saw that the light tower started falling. Moriarty looked up and a few seconds later they were both buried under the rumble. 

John looked at what he had done and immediately hurried to the remains of the building. He climbed over bricks and steals pillars and hoped he would find his partner. He had to be alive! 

“Holmes?”, he asked into the silent of the night while he continued his search. 

He heard Sherlock moaning under some bricks.   
“Holmes?”, he asked more enthusiastically.

“Take your time. Take your time”, he heard Holmes mumble and followed the voice. 

He found the man under some bricks and covered in dust. Immediately he got rid of the rumble and turned his friend around. Sherlock groaned softly. Oh god! An iron hook was piercing his shoulder and he had seemed to have lost lots of blood. He pulled the hook out and tossed it away angrily. Fucking bastard! The Doctor pressed a hand on the wound and held his friend. Sherlock was grabbing his arm and looked at him. The breathing of the Detective was heavily and erratic. 

“Always good to see you Watson”, he said quietly.

Watson smiled at him before he carefully sat him up. 

“We got to get out of here.”

He took the scarf the man was still wearing and bandaged his shoulder as good as possible before he helped him up and they looked for a way out.

“This way Watson”, Sherlock said, leaning onto him. “Through the building over there...”

Watson nodded and they both made their way to the building opposite them. He manoeuvred his friend through a long corridor and then down some stairs. 

“What were you thinking?”, Watson asked him while Sherlock put some more weight on the Doctor. 

They stumbled forward when Sherlock told him to wait.

“Wait?”

He let go of him when the Doctor saw what his companion meant. He grabbed some weapons, so did Sherlock, before he helped the other man up again and they continued to hurry to their meeting point with Simza and the other gypsy’s. 

“I thought I had him”, Sherlock answered his question. “I think I can walk”, he managed to say and he truly looked a bit better. 

Watson let go of his waist and Sherlock really did manage to walk on his own this time. The Doctor knew that he had to look at his friends’ wound as soon as possible. Sherlock managed to keep up until they were outside but then he stumbled again. Watson took his arm, some sort of machine gun in the other one, and they more slowly continued their escape. They made it to the company’s railway station without interruption and already saw Simza when they heard shouting and people following them. 

“One… Two… Three… Now!”, shouted Sherlock and the Doctor turned them around and shoot. 

He took them down and they hurried further and escaped between two wagons where the others were waiting.

“Did you see my brother?”, the young woman asked.

“No, but I’m certain he has been here”, Sherlock said panting while they ran down the rails to a wall.

“Where are we going?”, he heard Watson behind him.

“Over that wall!”, Simza shouted and they heard gunshots again.

“How did you know I’d find you?”, Watson wanted to know.

“You didn’t find me, you collapsed a building on me”, he slightly joked and he could see his Doctor’s smile. 

One of the other gypsy’s got shot from two twins so they both fired at them. When one of them got down, the other completely seemed to ignore his brothers dead and continued to chase them. Odd, Sherlock thought for a second before the Doctor pulled him away and gunned down the second brother. They reached the wall when more men approached and started to fire. This was a mess. They had no chance of getting out here now, the Doctor thought. They hid behind a rail wagon. John looked at him while Sherlock slumped down in pain, closing his eyes for a second. 

“You’re alright?”

Sherlock nodded. They didn’t have time for this now… They had to get out of here. They Germans fired something big at them, like a bomb and the wall crumbled in front of their eyes. This was their opportunity. Watson pulled him up and they made their escape through the nearby woods. 

“Where are the horses?”, Watson shouted over the noise and gunfire.

“Behind!”, Sim shouted. 

“We need them!”, he said and Sherock knew that his  Doctor was right.

They had no chance escaping by foot.

“What’s our way out?”, Sherlock shouted at her while they ran through the bushes.

He heard a faraway signal of an approaching train.

“This is our way out!”, the woman shouted and pointed into the right direction where he saw a railway and a train coming closer. Where they able to make it?

Sherlock felt blood running down his arm while they continued running. The Germans fired bombs at them and some of the men got down. There was earth and pieces of woods around them. He looked to Watson who was a few meters beside him when a big caliber hit the ground right behind them. The impact was so strong that they all stumbled and fell forward. Sherlock’s ears rang and he had lost his orientation. Watson? The Doctor was by his side and helped him up before the German soldiers had reached them. Watson and he himself tried to avoid their punches. Since the Doctor wasn’t injured he managed better than Sherlock. Together they managed to fight them off when another bomb hit the ground right beside him. Another man attacked but Watson helped to get rid of him while Sherlock handed the Doctor a shotgun. Without hesitation he turned and fired at the other man that was following them. Sebastian Moran. He hit him and the figure got down. They heard the signal of the train again and made their way to the rails when they just saw it arrive at their spot. Simza and two other man – Sherlock had forgotten their names– where still here and running beside them. They just made it and where lucky that the train was going so slow. They managed to open a wagon and climbed in. John helped him when another shot ran through the air and the man behind him got down. The other gypsy – Tamas, he remembered now,- was screaming his name and was hoping to follow them but he was dead. Watson looked at the position from where the shot must’ve came from and saw Moran standing there, looking at them. The ex-soldier seemed proper angry and had a wild look at his face. John knew Moran would be trouble. Sherlock still lay on the floor, exhausted, breathing heavily and still losing more blood. Watson looked at him with a soft smile. They made it. They were safe.

Simza was coming over to him and curiously looked at the Detective. Sherlock knew that she wanted some answers, but for now he needed to rest. The Doctor looked at him too, but after a quick change of the bandage he tried to stitch up the others for now.

“John, you’re bleeding”, Sherlock said after a while and only now John realised that a bullet had hit him at the right hip. 

“It’s nothing. Let me check your wounds now.”

“No…  I can wait. Please look after you”, the Detective said while Sim sat down behind him and put his head in her lap.

“I’ll look after him while you stitch this wound”, she promised and so the Doctor did.

A few minutes later Simza started to sing for their fallen comrades. It was a relaxing yet sad melody and Sherlock felt calm for once. He looked at his Doctor while he laid there, the woman’s hands pressing on his wound and holding him. John was safe, he carefully stitched himself up. He was calm and sorted like usual. Sherlock smiled a little. The Detective was tired and he knew he should rest until John would look at his wounds. Meanwhile he wanted to think about their further investigation but his mind was blank and his eyelids got heavier by the minute. Simza’s singing lured him into the darkness and soon he closed his eyes and tried to forget… 

John had just stitched the wound at his waist when Simza stopped singing. It must’ve been a sad song for their fallen friends, he thought. They too have had such songs during the war.

“He’s not breathing”, the woman then said and John looked up. 

Sherlock had closed his eyes and just lay there, bloody clothes and pale like a dead man. He crawled the few feet over and looked at his friend. He checked his pulse. Nothing. 

“Cradle his head. Raise his legs!”, he ordered and the two did what he had asked. “Bloody well not gonna die on me!”, he said while starting chest compression. 

He couldn’t let his friend die! Not today! Not now!    
“I’m not gonna make this easy on you”, he grunted though gritted teeth while continuing. “Come on. Come on!”

He searched for a pulse again. Still nothing. Bloody hell! John hit the Detective’s chest harder and then continued to massage his heart again. He would not let Sherlock die! He hit him again.

“Come on! Come on! I know you can hear me your selfish bastard!”, he said angry and continued. 

Sim looked at him concerned but he continued harder. 

“Come on!”, he now shouted and hit the man’s chest again. “I know you can hear me you bastard!”, he now shouted and lost control. 

Simza held back his next hit and closed her arms around him.   
“I know you can hear me”, he now mumbled at her shoulder, still looking at his friend’s body. “I know it…”, he said with tears in his voice.

Tamas patted him on the shoulder while the woman kept holding him and they were rocking back and forth to sooth him. After a minute she let go of him and he just looked at Sherlock’s dead body. No, this can’t be the end.

“His wedding gift!”, he then said and hurried to his jacket where he got the small black etui. 

He quickly pushed the injection into his friend’s chest and waited impatiently. The other two looked curious and waited for it to work. It did! Suddenly Sherlock opened his eyes, hurriedly got up and ran to one corner of the waggon, screaming.

“Terrible dream!”

All three of them looked wide eyed at the Detective. It had worked! John had seen it before but this was a miracle! He got to his friend and tried to sooth him while he was mumbling something about the pony and Mary and a fork.

“What have you administered?”, Sherlock said erratic while Watson took his pulse.

“Your wedding present”, John said calmly and showed him the empty tube. 

“Who’s been dancing on my chest?”, Sherlock screamed and rubbed it. 

“Me”, John said even calmer and manoeuvred him onto an old but massive looking wooden box. 

“Why is my ankle so itchy?”, Sherlock said without sense.

“Because you have a large piece of wood sticking out of it.”

“You, Tamas! I have an important job to discuss with you”, Sherlock said out of nowhere. 

The two gypsy’s where still looking confused at the Doctor and his companion. John handed him a tiny bottle.

“Drink this. I need to get that out before it turns septic”, he said and put his leg on the box as well while he leaned against the wooden wall. 

“Did you call me selfish bastard?”, Sherlock asked now.

“Probably”, John said calm and sorted like before while looking at the piece of wood in his friend’s foot. 

SImza sat beside them and looked at the Doctor and the Detective. Strange people, she thought. 

“John, just leave it in”, Sherlock said but John pulled out the piece of wood anyway.

It hurt. A small groan escaped his throat and he closed his eyes for a moment.

“You… You are a… Oh… you’re some sort of…”, he said. 

“Be nice!”, John ordered in his military tone and pulled off his boot. 

John looked at Sim who was still scrutinizing them both. Sherlock gave him a long look before the Doctor continued his work and stitched his friend up as well. While John worked on his foot Sherlock apologised.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to Brighton.”

“Me too. I think we should go home.”

“I concur. We’re going home”, Sherlock agreed tiredly and Watson looked curiously and astonished at his friend.

Usually Holmes never backed up from a case. What was wrong here? 

“Via Switzerland”, Holmes then said and closed his eyes once more.

There it was, thought John. They won’t be quitting. Not now.

“What better place to start a war than a peace summit?”, Sherlock said and smiled a little. “We drop in and see my brother. I’m sure he’s missed you.”

Watson smiled. There was the Sherlock Holmes he knew. It got darker so Watson tried to hurry with stitching his friend up. He helped him out of the bandage he made of the scarf and out of his shirt. The wound was still bleeding heavily. After a while he managed to stop the bleeding and sewed it. 

“This should do for now. Be careful with using that arm and don’t make any sudden and rush movements.”

“I won’t”, Sherlock promised and sank back against the wall. 

After a few minutes the Detective was asleep. Watson cleaned the place a bit up to not leave any evidence and sat down beside the boxes he had placed Holmes on. Simza sat beside him.

“Your friendship between each other is strange”, she admitted then. “You care but you don’t show him. Why?”

“I… It’s complicated”, John admitted for the first time.

It was, all of it. They weren’t allowed to show feelings. So they had decided on not doing this. It had been an unspoken rule between them. 

“How do we go on from here? Moriarty has to be stopped?”

“I have no idea”, Watson admitted. “But I’m sure he already has a plan.”

The train found its way through the wild and rough nature. The world around them got calmer and soon everyone was asleep, everyone except Doctor Watson. He sat in the dark beside his friend and looked through the open door of the waggon outside and at the stars. Today had been very emotional and he was glad for some time alone. Losing Holmes had broken him. Losing his best friend – only for a few minutes – had shown him what all those years and adventures meant for him. They had never spoken about it. About those lonely nights they had shared, those stolen touches and soft kisses. No one knew, not even Mary or Mrs Hudson. With something like regret, he now thought about all those unspoken things and realised he wouldn’t survive without Holmes. After a while a hand started ruffling his hair. Sherlock. Watson smiled. 

“You need to rest”, Holmes said.

“I can’t sleep”, he simply said.

“Thank you”, Holmes then said.

“For what?”   
“For coming with me and saving my life.”

“You know I’d do it. You always knew.”

“Yes I do.”

Soon after their little conversation, the Detective was asleep once more and Watson left alone with his thoughts.

They just made it in time for the peace summit and arrived late the evening before. Mycroft already waited for them at the train station to bring them to his little house in the mountains. Holmes leaned against Watson while they sat in the carriage that brought them to the house. Mycroft and Simza where sitting opposite them and Mycroft was talking something about the summit tomorrow, but Sherlock didn’t listen. He was tired and his shoulder hurt. It was late when they arrived and Watson helped his friend out of the carriage. The Doctor put an arm around his waist and helped him inside the house. 

“Stanley prepared the rooms upstairs for you. Sadly we only have three including my own so I don’t think that you mind sharing a room with Doctor Watson brother dear.”

Sherlock ignored the snarling tone in his brother’s voice and tried to head upstairs himself. Watson excused himself and immediately was by his side again. He got him up the stairs and to the room at the end of the corridor.

It was quite small and there was only a large double bed. The window showed them a view over the valley and it was half frozen. It was cold in here and there was a tiny fireplace in one corner of the room. There also was a small wardrobe beside the door and a tiny desk and chair under the window. Watson helped his friend to sit down on the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired”, Holmes admitted.

“I’ll build up a fire and you should get some rest. You need it before we face Moriarty tomorrow evening.”

Holmes obeyed and tried to get out of his boots. After Watson hat managed to make a fire he helped his friend. 

“Thank you”, Sherlock thanked him once more quietly and looked at his best friend who was kneeling in front of him. 

Watson looked up and smiled a little. He had missed this to be honest. Adventures. Danger. Caring for his friend. He loved Mary, there was no doubt, but this was different. He looked into those colourful eyes and remembered everything that had been between them for a moment. Without thinking he pressed his lips against Sherlock’s. It had been too long and he melted into the Soldier’s kiss. It was perfect. Holmes pulled him closer and deepened the kiss while Watson’s hands rummaged over his chest, his arms, his tight. The Detective moaned a little and Watson smiled. He ignored all their obligations and resolutions, that last time had been the last time. He stood up and carefully pushed Holmes back while he continued kissing the other man. After a few minutes Sherlock realized what they were doing, what Watson did and intended to do, so he shoved him away.

“Wait! John, stop…”, he said while the Doctor’s hands found their way under his shirt and he trailed kisses down his neck.

“What is it?”, the Doctor asked distracted.

“We can’t… We shouldn’t… Mary… I promised.”

“Right now, I don’t care about Mary”, Watson admitted and looked at him again. “I don’t care what’s normal and what we agreed. I don’t care about our obligations or who we are. Right now I just want to do this. Love you… Touch you…”

“I promised”, Holmes said again. 

“I know…”, Watson said and waited while he remembered that night…

_It had been after he had moved out of Baker Street. They had been working a case together and where high on adrenaline when they arrived at 221B late at night. It had happened before and John wasn’t surprised when Sherlock pressed him against the door of their room and kissed him, after he had closed it silently to not wake up Mrs Hudson. The hands of the younger man where fumbling at his coat and soon after he pulled it off. Watson kissed him back and they stumbled to Holmes’ armchair while Sherlock undid the buttons of his jacket and shirt. Like usual the Doctor was in charge after a while and pushed the other man down. Sherlock pulled Watson closer until he sat on him and finally pushed away the fabric that veiled the chest of the Doctor. Sherlock kissed the old scar at John’s shoulder while working on his belt. Watson laughed and kissed him once more. Gosh he loved this man._

_“You know that this is the last time, don’t you?”, Sherlock then asked him quietly._

_“What do you mean?”, the Doctor wanted to know while working on his vest._

_“You’re going to get married”, Sherlock said. “You moved out.”_

_“Yes”, he said and tried to get rid of the Detectiv’s shirt. “How do I get this off?”_

_“Watson. I mean it!”, he said serious and held his hands._

_“I know”, the Doctor said and sighed. “What does this mean for us?”_

_“It means that I won’t do this again. Not ever. I promise. No one can ever know.”_

_“Alright”, Watson said before he kissed him once more. “Just tonight…”_

_They quickly undressed until they were both sitting here, only in their trousers. They kisses where rough and passionate. Wanting, hurriedly. Holmes pushed his hands down the Doctor’s trousers and he groaned._

_“Oh dear lord!”_

_The Detective laughed while Watson buried his face in his neck and breathed heavily. He moved his hand once more. Another moan escaped the Doctors mouth. Sherlock was hard himself and moaned when John touched him too. He captured his hand and held it while kissing him roughly once more. They were all hands and tongues and teeth. It was rushed and effective. They didn’t waste any time and soon they both climaxed together. They were sticky and sweaty but John couldn’t care. He just wanted to hold his Detective for a little longer..._

_It had been their last night together. Until now. Watson still locked at him. Patiently, wanting._

“You know that this can’t be. You’re married.”

“What would you do if I were not? You never cared about Mary before.”

“I did. But I cared more about you.”

“Cared? You don’t care now?”

“God help me I still do”, Holmes said, put all his thoughts aside and kissed him passionately. 

Watson moaned and pressed himself more against the other man. Holmes’ body was lean and muscular. He had lost too much weight since he started this case and John was worried because of it. He needed to eat. 

“John, stop worrying. I’m fine. You’re with me.”

“I am…”, he breathed heavily when Holmes’ hands found its way to his belt.

Soon they were all hands and tongues again and stopped talking. Carefully Watson unclothed Holmes and trailed kisses down his body. Sherlock soon was a moaning mess under the skilful hands of the Doctor who was still surprised that he had this effect on the Detective.

“Wait…”, he said. “Watson…”

“What is it love?”, he mumbled and kissed him at the neck where he left a small love mark. 

“I want you fully this time.”

“Are you sure?”

Sherlock nodded and soon after they carefully and passionately loved each other. Watson held a steady and slow rhythm while he moved inside the detective and only their moans and heavy breathing cut the complete silence in their room. He was close and so was his partner.

“Come for me love”, Watson mumbled and pushed a few more times forward, before he himself climaxed with the detective. 

Sherlock shouted his name and he too mumbled something incomprehensible while the world got blurry. He was still gripping the Detectives hand when he regained full consciousness. Holmes was breathed heavily under him while he had to deal with his full weight. The Doctor quickly popped some of it on one arm and looked at his lover. He caressed his cheek and kissed him deeply before pulling out of him. The Detective winced. 

“I’m sorry”, Watson said. 

“Don’t be, it’s fine.”

He lay down beside him and pulled Holmes in his arms before he kissed his temple.

“I love you”, he mumbled and he could feel the other man’s body freeze. 

Worried he looked at Sherlock who seemed pale and worried himself. He avoided the Doctor’s scrutinizing look and turned away again.

“What is it?”

“You should not say these words.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

“Even so… Don’t…”

Watson stayed silent and held him once more while pressing soft kisses to his shoulder and neck. Sherlock felt safe and wasn’t worried about what would come. He hoped that this night would never end though. He was his again. It was just the two of them. 

“What would you do”, Sherlock asked after a while, “if this would be your last night on earth?”

“Why would you think about something like that?”, Watson wanted to know instead. 

“I was just thinking about tomorrow”, Sherlock mumbled.

“Because we’re facing Moriarty? Don’t worry we’ll let the others see his plans and put a stop to his game.”

“I hope you’re right”, Sherlock mumbled a bit anxious.

Watson had never seen his friend like this. Anxious, not willing to continue the game, worried that he’d lose against the Professor.

“What would I do?”, John then said, honestly thinking about Sherlock’s question. “Maybe I’d do what I most desired. I’d do what I love, damn the consequences.”

Sherlock turned with a moan because of his wound and faced his Doctor. He caressed his cheek and kissed him softly while the Doctor then put a blanket over their naked bodies. 

“Then let’s pretend that this is our last night”, Sherlock mumbled and kissed him once more passionately before he pressed himself against Watsons strong body. After some more soft kisses and touches they made love once more. 

“I love you John Watson, don’t forget this”, he admitted and kissed his Doctor again softly. 

“So you’re allowed to say this but not me?”, John said mockingly and the younger man laughed a little. “That’s unfair.”

“It’s true though.” Watson stayed silent and held him tight while kissing his shoulder once more and deep in his thoughts. “Why did you leave me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You left me and married her. Why? Wasn’t the life we had not good enough?”

“It was a good life but I wanted more. I told you before.”

Sherlock remembered. The stag night where he had told him that he wanted kids. A family. Something Sherlock couldn’t give him.

“Let’s not talk about this”, Watson said and pulled him towards his chest.

Sherlock snuggled up closer and tried to store every detail of this night in his mind palace. It was early and the sun was about to rise when the Detective finally fell asleep in Watson’s arms. The Doctor was tired himself and soon after, he too fell asleep. Only a few hours later he woke up by some noise downstairs. He carefully got up to not wake Sherlock and dressed in his trousers, a shirt and a robe. He got downstairs where Mycroft and Simza where sitting and had breakfast. 

“Ah, good morning Doctor Watson”, Mycroft greeted him and gestured to the chair beside him.

Watson sat down and Stanley poured him a cup of tea. 

“How’s my brother?”

“Better. His wound is fine, no infection.”

“Good.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes and discussed the peace summit. 

“I still don’t understand why you simply don’t cancel the summit”, John then said into the silence.

“Well, the fact is, it’s gonna happen whether we like it or not. Everyone has already arrived. Although these gentlemen may be talking peace believe me, they’re readying their armies at home. To cancel the summit now would be tantamount to war.”

“The telegram, wasn’t it clear?”

“We have doubled the security Sir”, Carruthers said.

“Oh…. Doubled the security, that’s comforting”, Simza said sarcastic.

“You don’t understand the delicacy of the situation”, Mycroft continued a tat annoyed. “I passed the telegram on to my superiors but they’re the ones who brought Moriarty in to advice on the peace process in the first place. He has positioned himself brilliantly. He’s one of our foremost intellectuals, he’s a personal friend of..”

“… personal friend of the Prime Minister. Yes we all know that!”, Watson interrupted him angrily. 

“I believe you”, Mycroft assured. “But where’s your evidence?”

“He’s too good to leave evidence. He doesn’t leave loose ends.”

Watson heard footsteps behind him and was sure that Holmes must be here. He tried not to think of what they had done not 7 hours ago. 

“Oh… He’s alive”, Sim chuckled and looked smiling at the Detective.

He didn’t bother to answer or say anything but curiously looked at a small device on a table nearby. It looked like some sort of machine to breathe? He took it and inhaled. 

“Sherly put that down!”, Mycroft shouted from the table.

“What is this contraption? May I have it? The effect is most invigorating”, Sherlock explained and too tried to avoid facing the Doctor. 

“That’s my private and personal supply of oxygen, and you’re not to touch it!”, Mycroft explained while the whole table looked at the Detective.

Watson smiled a bit and then took a sip of tea to distract himself from his thoughts. Sherlock put the device away and talked to the old man Stanley, while Watson turned his attention back to their discussion. 

“This argument is getting us nowhere.”

“I’ve arranged for documents to be prepared which allow you into the ball. Fact is, we don’t really know what he’s planning.”

“It won’t be another bomb”, Simza said convinced.

“No, it wouldn’t be another bomb”, Watson agreed. 

“It doesn’t make sense”, she said.

“Why would he attack all the nations only to unite them?”, Watson spoke out his thoughts loudly.

“It’ll be an assassination”, Sherlock said, standing now beside his Doctor. “By a lone gunman at close range.”

“Rene”, Simza said and finally realised the purpose of her brother.

Watson could see the tears in her eyes when she finally began to understand.

“Unfortunately yes”, Holmes agreed.

“You knew”, she said bewildered. “You knew…”

“I had my suspicions. But having seen who would be attending, I’m now certain.”

“Well at least we know who to look out for”, Mycroft  said.

Simza was still looking at the Detective. She felt betrayed and alone. 

“Rene will be the evidence”, Watson said and looked at his friend.

“If we can find him and stop him, we will perhaps not only save his life but prevent the collapse of western civilization. No pressure”, Holmes added sarcastically and finally sat down to drink a cup of tea. 

Carruthers poured him one while the Doctor shot him a quick glance. Sherlock didn’t seem to say anything so they all remained in silence.

“You should eat something”, John mumbled to him while Simza and Mycroft talked about her brother.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well then go to bed and rest. You look pale and like you’re gonna pass out every second.”

“Well I didn’t get much sleep last night, Doctor”, Holmes said quietly and sipped from his tea. 

A while later Watson excused himself and headed upstairs. He needed to clean up. Carruthers had prepared him a bath in the small bathroom down the hall, he was now heading to. He had just undressed and sank into the bathtub when the door opened and Holmes stepped in.    
“Is everything alright?”, he immediately asked since the Detective looked pale and shaky. 

Holmes nodded and sat on the small bench a few feet away.

“I need to sort my thoughts. You always helped me with that so I hope you don’t mind if I sit here and we talk old boy.”

“No not at all.”

While Sherlock talked about the case and task at hand, John watched him and thought about last night. He was still a bit confused about Holmes’ behaviour. He behaved strange, erratic, even a bit manic. He was worried about him, that he’d do something stupid.

“You look worried”, Holmes deduced but Watson stayed silent. “You don’t have to. We’re gonna stop him and put an end to this, like you said.”

Holmes stood up and stepped beside the bathtub before he bend down and kissed Watson once more. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”, asked Watson and let his hand rest on the Detective’s cheek.

“For giving me so much last night. And during the last years.”

“That sounds like you’re saying goodbye”, Watson said. 

“I don’t I just…”

Watson kissed him.

“Shut up and get into the tub.”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea”, Holmes objected. 

Watson stood up, undressed him quickly and pulled him into the hot water. He caressed him with soft kisses and light touches. It made him emotional that John still cared so much after all this time. The tub was big enough for both of them and so Watson kneeled between the Detective’s legs and kissed him while he pressed himself more against him. Sherlock moaned. 

“What do you say”, said John, grabbed their cocks and moved his hand, “if we continue our last night?”

“Oh God yes!”, he mumbled and pressed his lips against John’s once more. 

Panting they stayed in the cold water. He really did love this man, damn the consequences, Watson thought. Sherlock yawned and buried his head at his shoulder.

“We better get you into bed. You need some rest before tonight.”

Watson helped him out of the tub and handed him a dressing gown before putting on some fresh clothes. Sherlock slowly walked to their room while John got a coat Mycroft had organised for them and headed outside. It was cold and snowing but he needed some fresh air and some time alone. He sat on a small bench beside the house and looked down the valley. The world was calm and nothing let others know what was going on. What could happen. 

It was late when John got inside and they had dinner. Sherlock had excused himself and was still upstairs. He finished his food quickly and got to their room where Sherlock was already half dressed. 

“How are you?”

“I’m fine”, Sherlock lied although his shoulder hurt. 

“I need to check your wound”, Watson said, fully in Doctor mode.

Sherlock slipped out of his shirt again and sat on the bed. John undid the bandage and looked at the stitches. The wound was framed red and swollen. It hurt when John came near it. It seemed as if it was inflamed after all. 

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“It doesn’t matter right now. We’ve more important things to do.”

John tried his best and bandaged the wound again after a few more minutes. He helped Sherlock dress properly and they both headed downstairs where Simza and Mycroft were already waiting. The young woman wore an expensive red dress. 

“You look beautiful”, Holmes said to her and offered his arm.

“Thank you”, she said and took it before they slipped into their coats and headed to the carriage. 

They arrived at the summit about 40 minutes later. It was a stunning castle build at the edge of a waterfall. They headed inside and to the ballroom where some couples where dancing, others talking and drinking.

“Now we are all present, I can tell you the targets are the German chancellor and his ambassador, the French Prime Minister and his man. And the other nations are really working out which side to take should hostilities erupt. There’s Prince Michael, who’s a cousin of the Czar and the Russian ambassador. The Archduke Karl Ludwig and the Austro-Hungarian ambassador. The Romanian Prime Minister and his ambassador and of course our Prime Minister and the British ambassador.”

While Mycroft had talked Sherlock had carefully looked through the room.

“He’ll choose a moment when all the dignitaries are assembled preferably standing still. Is there to be an official photograph?”

“Indeed, yes. In 38 minutes”, Mycroft said and looked at his watch. 

“In which case, we might as well dance”, Sherlock said and held his hand to the young woman.

She took it and they headed to the dancefloor.

“I’ve never done this before”, she said nervous. 

“Just follow my lead”, Holmes said while looking around, remembered his manners and smiled at her reassuringly. 

While they danced, he carefully searched for clues.

“What do you see?”, she asked him silently.

“Everything.. “, Holmes said. “That is my curse.”

“But you don’t see what you’re looking for”, Sim deduced.

He knew she was right. Irritated by her statement and what he had just seen, he got back to Watson who was waiting by the dancefloor, watching them carefully. Sim stepped to Mycroft while he held his hand outstretched to Watson.

“I thought you’d never ask”, he said and took it.

Holmes led him to the dancefloor. 

“Over my shoulder. Young man, German uniform, ceremonial sword”, he explained while he led Watson further to the point he wanted to be. 

“Got him”, Watson said after a few seconds.

“Professional opinion?”

The Doctor looked closer.

“Trauma. Major injury but excellent repair work.” Watson realised what Holmes meant. “Doctor Hoffmanstahl!”

Holmes nodded. 

“You did say he was at the forefront of medical innovation. We’ve already seen an example of his skills.”

“Those twins weren’t twins”, Watson said and finally understood what was going on.

My suspicions were aroused in Heilbronn when one failed to go to the aid of the other”, Holmes explained and continued to look for clues. “I also noticed the discreet but unmistakable puckering behind the ear where his skin had been drawn back. I should have realised then that they were a surgical experiment.” 

“To see if it is possible to make one man look like another.”

“His face is no longer his own. What better way to guarantee his World War than to make the assassin…”

“… one of the ambassadors”, Watson concluded while they left the dancefloor and looked at the crowd. 

“That narrows down the possibility to one of six. You and Sim shall find her brother. Of this I have no doubt.”

“Holmes…”, the Doctor said confused.

“You know my methods.”

They both looked at each other for a few seconds until John accepted what would have to be done. 

“And I know where you’ll be”, he said.

“No possible solution could be more congenital to me than this.”

The mood between them was tense and Watson didn’t want to let him out of sight. His look wandered to his lips for a second and then back to his blue—green eyes. 

“By the way, who thought you how to dance?”, Holmes asked curiously to take away some of the tension of this moment.

Watson laughed and looked away for a second. 

“You did”, he said smiling and looked at his friend. 

“Well, I’ve done a fine job.”

Holmes looked at him once more before he turned away.

“Be careful”, Watson said in a sharp tone before the Detective left him and turned to the task at hand.

Holmes handed a small note to one of the valets and headed outside to the balcony to wait for Moriarty while Watson would find Rene. The Doctor headed back to Sim where he quickly and whispering told her what was going on and what they had found out. The young woman was shocked and couldn’t believe what the Doctor was saying. Her brother was not her brother? But how would they find him? Watson looked to the entrance and saw Moriarty arrive with some politician. The valet headed to him and handed him Holmes’ note. After he quickly read it, he too left the room for the balcony. 

“Shall we go to work?”, Watson asked her. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please gather for the portrait”, he heard another man in a black tuxedo say to the crowd while they had split up and were wandering around to find some clues about the whereabouts of her brother. Watson was nervous and worried about Sherlock. Sim and he met after they walked round to the opposite f the men that were waiting for the photograph. He exhaled to calm his nerves.

“Right. The surgery will have left scars. Only four of them have the hairline to hide them”, he explained more to himself.

“They are all my brothers’ height. Right build but… Their eyes, their eyes are wrong”, Sim said and looked carefully at the four men. “Rene has blue eyes.”

“He could be wearing glass lenses to change their colour”, the Doctor explained and continued watching them. “In which case, his eyes will be hurting”, he concluded. 

“Rene is left-handed”, Sim said once more to help the Doctor exclude the wrong men.

Watson thought about what Holmes would do now and heard his voice in his head. Like a guide.

_Perhaps the assassin will take measures to ensure he doesn’t give himself away. Like a gambler concealing a tell._

“I think… It might be him”, she murmured. 

“You think? Sim, you have to be sure. If I tackle the wrong man to the ground, I could start a war.”

_Maybe it’s less obvious_ , he heard Holmes’ voice again.   _A nervous tick. A flutter of anxiety._  

“I don’t know”, the woman beside him said again.

The photographer was ready, nearly all people were standing in position. Time was running out. He bend down to her and whispered:

“Keep watching the men.”

_Perhaps it’s the opposite: failure to behave naturally. An actor so consumed with his performance, that the once characteristic he cannot accommodate is spontaneous reaction,_  Holmes said in his head again. Watson made his way to the valet who was standing beside the photographer, holding a tablet with some champagne glasses. He carefully watched the man, hoping that he would be not too late. He moved past them and then pushed the tablet down so the glasses fell to the ground. A loud shattering would confuse the crowd except for the assassin. He and Sim watched the men and all turned but one, the man on the right-hand side, holding a cigar. Watson looked for the scars and watched him closely. He let the cigar fall and turned. Sim looked to Watson who nodded. While the man stood there, opening his jacket and wanting to pull something out, she stood in front of him and held his arm. Watson did not understand what she said but apparently, they had the right man because he looked at her shocked and waited. Everyone was looking. Watson checked the other men again, not that they had missed something when the ambassador they had picked – Rene – shoved his sister aside and pulled a gun. The Doctor immediately reacted and ran towards him. He screamed something indistinctively and before the man could take the shot, John had run him to the ground and held the gun in place.

“Carruthers, protect the Prime Minister!”, he heard Mycroft shouting while the other Holmes hurried to him and helped him get the gun from this madman. 

Two others helped Watson and they pulled him outside while he screamed something at the crowd. Sim looked shocked at the scene while the Doctor got up and then closed her into his arms. The young woman buried her face at his shoulder while he caressed her back. People were looking at the scene and at them curiously. Suddenly Rene’s shouting stopped and Watson realised something. 

“No loose ends”, he mumbled and let go of Sim before he followed where the guards had took the man. They were standing beside his body when the Doctor arrived at the scene.

“What happened to him?” The guards where keeping him from getting closer and shoved him away. “I’m a Doctor. A Doctor!”, he shouted and finally they understood and let him go.

They let him pass and he checked the man’s pulse. He was gaging on something and had foam coming out of his mouth. He was poisoned. He also found the small arrow and licked at it. 

“Curare”, he said and spit it out when Sim was at his side.

“What happened to him?”, she asked anxious and kneeled to his brother who was dying. 

Watson stood up and looked for their assassin, Moran. He knew that it had to be him.

“Doctor do something!”, Sim shouted and spoke to her brother in their native dialect. 

She shouted her pain in the room and started crying. Watson couldn’t do anything. 

Meanwhile Holmes and Moriarty sat outside the balcony, playing chess and discussing what was going on. They heard the screaming and the Detective knew what had happened.

“Didn’t you find it strange”, he heard Moriarty say, as he concentrated on the here and now again, “that the telegram you sent didn’t inspire any action to stop me? You see, hidden within the unconscious is an insatiable desire for conflict”, Moriarty explained because Holmes had said they had avoided a war. “So you’re not fighting me so much as you are the human condition. All I want to do is own the bullets and the bandages. War on an industrial scale is inevitable. They’ll do it themselves within a few years. All I have to do is wait.”

Holmes looked at him, deep in his thoughts. He knew the Professor was right somehow and that he couldn’t stop him. 

“I like Switzerland”, Moriarty continued. “They respect a man’s privacy here. Particularly if he has a fortune.”

The Professor stood up and walked a few feet away. 

“Bishop takes knight. Check”, Holmes said to distract and keep him here further until he had a plan.

“The game is over”, Moriarty said simply and uninterested. “You should get that shoulder looked at.”

“About that fortune of yours. I believe it’s just been substantially reduced.”

“King to rook two”, Moriarty said when he realised Holmes wouldn’t give up that easy. 

“I attended several of your lectures. It was in Oslo when I first caught a glimpse of your little notebook. Red leather-bound from Smythson of Bond Street. Rook to King’s rook three. Check.”

He could feel that Moriarty got nervous now. The Professor was checking his pocket if the notebook was still there, by letting his hand glide over his chest. He did it quite unobtrusive as if it had been coincidence. He had him right where he wanted him. Moriarty turned, not shoving what he felt. He smiled.

“Bishop to rook three.”

“It’s importance was not fully apparent to me until I observed your penchant for feeding pigeons. Then it occurred that with an empire so enormous, even you must keep a record of it somewhere. Bishop takes Bishop”, Holmes said while standing up and facing him.

“Rook to Bishop four.”

“I then only require the notebook itself”, Holmes continued with his explanation. “You didn’t make it easy. I would need to endure a considerable amount of pain.” He thought back to the torturing he had endured in Heilbronn. “But the notebook would be undoubtedly be encoded, so how then to break the code? Rook takes rook.”

“Pawn takes rook.”

“Bishop to Bishop seven.”

“Queen takes knight pawn.”

While they told themselves their next moves they had moved towards each other and where now standing opposite of each other. 

“Does  _The Art of Domestic Horticulture_  mean anything to you? How could a man as meticulous as you own such a book yet completely neglect the flowers in his own window box? Irony abounds.”

Moriarty stopped and reached into his inner pocket to pull out the red notebook. 

“Never mind, it’s safe, in London, where my colleagues are making good use of it”, Holmes said before the Professor looked inside. “The most formidable criminal mind in Europe has just had all his money stolen by perhaps the most inept Inspector in the history of Scotland Yard”, he conclude and finally the Professor looked inside. 

There was a small scribbling of a fish, eating the fisherman and the note “Be careful what you fish for.”

“He’ll be making an anonymous donation to the widows and orphans of the war fund”, Sherlock concluded and pulled out his pipe. 

He had given the notebook to Tamas before they had gotten to another train that took them to Switzerland. He had ordered the man to bring it to Mary who had gotten a letter with instructions by him and the note to get help by Lestrade. A dumb – as he thought - but most loyal friend. He had turned away to get his pipe ready to smoke while he could feel the anger of Moriarty behind him. The Professor stayed silent and just looked at the Detective. 

“Bishop to Bishop eight. Discover check…”, said Holmes and turned around since Moriarty was getting behind him. “And incidentally, mate.”

The other man was still silent and just looked at the Detective. He couldn’t believe it! Tricked by this ordinary Detective and his stupid and loyal dog, Doctor Watson! He hated him for this and he would get his revenge. Holmes could see the hatred in his eyes and was sure the game between them wasn’t over. He pulled out the lighter.

“I seem to have injured my shoulder. Would you mind?”, he asked and held the lighter up for Moriarty to take.

He could see the frantic look and search for a last idea in Moriarty’s face. A last chance to beat him after all but he knew there was none. He had won. 

“Be my pleasure”, the other man said and took it to help him light up the pipe. 

While he did it there was a silent battle between them how this would end and who would win this game after all. Sherlock had expected the man to accept his failure and defeat. But he didn’t. 

“Once we concluded our business here, it’s important to know I shall endeavour to find the most creative of endings for the Doctor”, Moriarty threatened him fully well knowing that Watson was Holmes’ weakness. “And his wife.”

He could see the anger and worry in his eyes, knowing that the younger man would do everything to keep his companion safe. In these few seconds Holmes imagined every possible outcome of a little fight between him and the ex-boxer and concluded that the prognosis was increasingly negative due to his injury…

Watson got Sim to Mycroft and explained everything to the other Holmes brother while getting more and more nervous. Holmes should be back by now. Something was wrong. He excused himself after a few more minutes and headed through the mumbling crowd to the balcony….

Conclusion: inevitable, thought Holmes to himself and grinned at the Professor. He knew that this had to end now. He just regretted that he had not had enough time to see Watson once more before he did this. Moriarty chuckled and grinned too. He still thought he had won over the Detective. How naïve! Watson blew the fire of the lighter to the Professor and while he looked away and was vulnerable, he quickly wrapped his arms around the man and put his foot against the table. Moriarty tried to wrestle himself free so Holmes needed to do this quick. At this moment the Doctor choose to open the door and look for his friend. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the situation. Holmes looked at his fiend and their eyes locked for a moment. Silently he pleaded him to forgive him and told him that he loved him before he closed his eyes and pushed against the table. Watson saw them fall back in slow-motion. He just stood there, helpless. Seeing his best friend and lover fall to his death… His feet wouldn’t work. He could not scream. He just stood there and looked at the spot where the single most important person in his life had stood a few seconds ago. Alone… He was alone again. He closed his eyes and tried to remember Holme’s face. It felt like hours when his feet moved and slowly he walked to the edge of the balcony looking into the dark and foam of the waterfall. No one could survive a fall like this and he knew it. When he stepped back he could hear something scratching over the floor. When Watson looked down he saw Holmes’ pipe. He must have dropped it. He got down and put it up. Still looking at it he remained here and without realising it he started crying. 

Alone…. Just like before, Watson thought once more and looked at the pipe in his hand.

The End? 


End file.
